Vendetta on Venus (Stark Raven Voyages Book 4) Read online

  Chan shook his head. He was accustomed to the rugged egalitarianism of the outer planets, where you were judged by what you could do, not what you could buy.

  "Anyway, I think he lives there," Lisa said. "I've seen him go in a few times now."

  There were volumes left unsaid, Chan thought. How many hours was this poor obsessed woman spending hanging around outside the gates of Stratos, hoping for a glimpse of the man she loved and hated?

  Lisa made them go through the story of their meeting with Geoff one more time. When she saw that they had no more to tell her, she quickly lost interest. "Thanks for coming down here," she said at last. "I guess it doesn't matter. He's gone back where he belongs, and we're still stuck out here."

  "I'm not done with him," Chan said. "I still plan to get my suitcase back."

  Lisa gazed at him with lifeless eyes and shrugged. "Sure. Good luck with that."

  Chan stood. "Thanks for the information."

  A spark of interest returned to Lisa's eyes. "Do you really think you might track him down?"

  Chan tried to imagine giving up, accepting the loss of the Raven and finding a way to get on with his life. His imagination wasn't up to it. "We'll track him down," he said.

  "Will you tell me what happens?" Her face was vulnerable and pathetic. "Could you tell him …" Her lips twisted. "Actually, don't tell him anything. Give him a punch in the chops for me." Her fingers curled into claws.

  "We'll tell you what happens," Chan said. Joss and Rhett rose, and the three of them left the diner. When Chan glanced back, Lisa was staring vacantly into space, lost in a private world of pain.

  Chan didn't know what Joss said to the security guard at the gates to Stratos. There should have been no possible combination of words that would get three uninvited visitors into the elite community, but he watched as she spoke, gestured, then laughed, the guard laughing with her. Then she turned and beckoned Chan forward. The guard gave Chan a friendly nod, and the three of them walked through the elaborate, archaic barred gate and into Stratos.

  The community reminded Chan strongly of the gallery where they'd first entered the city. He found himself on a street so wide, the ceiling so high above him, that he could almost believe he was back on Earth. Four stories above him the ceiling was almost nothing but glass, the connecting strips of aluminum so thin they were invisible from where Chan stood.

  The street itself was paved with cobblestones, an affectation so bizarre that Chan kept searching for some underlying function. What kind of idiot shipped rocks into orbit? For that matter, how far had these rocks been brought? Lifting stone from the surface of Venus would be an engineering marvel to rival the building of the city. Had they flown in cobblestones from Earth? It wasn't even a comfortable surface to walk on.

  Chan shook his head. The rich were truly incomprehensible.

  The trees in Stratos didn't grow in pots. Someone had imported Buddha only knew how much dirt and installed it beneath the street, just to create the illusion of a planetside environment. They were nice trees, huge old oaks and maples, leaving dappled patterns of shade on the street and the buildings that lined either side.

  As for the buildings, what he noticed first was that each building was unique. They were built of convincing facsimiles of wood and stone, with utterly useless peaked roofs and even shingles. Chan found himself fighting the urge to laugh. If rain started to fall in Stratos, something would have to be very wrong indeed. A roof leak would be the least of anyone's concerns.

  Standing in one place made them conspicuous, so the three of them set off down the street, Chan doing his best to look as if he had a destination. The truth was, he had no idea what he was doing. He hoped to learn something, to pick up the next clue in a chain that would eventually lead to Geoff and the stolen suitcase.

  The street stretched for four long blocks, lined on both sides by two-story homes with vast lawns and sculpted shrubbery. There were no pedestrians in sight, just the occasional robot on an errand. The whole neighborhood had an air of understated wealth, displayed with more taste than Chan had seen in the public areas of the city. It was all peaceful and elegant, the last place you'd expect to find a con artist and thief.

  They came to a cross street and peered both ways. The neighborhood continued for a block in either direction. To the left, Chan could see the border of Stratos, a thick row of trees that almost blocked out the green-painted wall beyond. It seemed ostentatious until he looked the other way. A block to the right, a glass wall extended from street level all the way up to the glass ceiling high above. Beyond the glass was water, swarming with fish. There was a four-story aquarium that stretched for three blocks, just to give the good people of Stratos something to look at nicer than a wall.

  They kept walking.

  In the very center of Stratos they found a park, a circle of grass big enough to park the Stark Raven five times over, with a fountain in the center and a scattering of trees and benches. By unspoken consent the three of them entered the park and sat on a stone bench in front of a sculpted stone nymph spraying water from her mouth.

  Half a dozen people went by in the next half hour, a couple of technicians in dirty coveralls and two couples, one young and one old, going to or from their homes. Small robots rolled past making deliveries or removing trash. Chan watched the traffic and waited fruitlessly for inspiration to strike.

  "There's six houses per block," Joss said at last. "Houses on both sides of the block, blocks on both sides of the street. That makes twelve times two, times a street four blocks long … Um, ninety-six houses?"

  "And no way to tell which one he's in," Chan said sourly.

  "We need to survey the neighborhood," Joss said. "For all we know there's a kiosk with a complete directory, one street over."

  "I guess you're right," Chan said, starting to rise.

  Joss pulled on his sleeve, and he sat back down. "Hang on," she said. "One of us should stay here. It's a central location, and it's the only place someone can wait and be inconspicuous. For all we know, he's about to walk past and go into one of these houses." She gestured at a red-brick mansion just across from the park. "There's better than a one-percent chance that he lives right there, after all."

  "Fine," said Chan. "Who stays, and who goes?"

  "Rhett should go," Joss said. "There's lots of robot traffic. No one pays any attention to robots, really. He can record a scan of the entire neighborhood while he's at it." She patted Rhett's shoulder. "Right, Rhett?"

  "I certainly can," the robot affirmed.

  "I'll go with him," Joss continued. "We're more likely to be questioned on the sidewalk than you are here in the park." She didn't add what both of them knew, that she was a far smoother liar than Chan was.

  "Fine," said Chan, feeling grumpy for no good reason. "I'll wait here and hope he comes by."

  Joss gave him a smile so charming that he couldn't maintain his bad mood, then rose and set off down the street with Rhett at her elbow. Chan watched her walk, enjoying the way her legs moved, then sighed and glanced up the street when she moved out of sight.

  A fat man came waddling along from the direction of the front gate. If he was Geoff, the man was an unparalleled master of disguise. Chan got up and strolled around the fountain, checking the far side of the street.

  He was on his fifth or sixth circuit when he saw a lone figure ambling along, heading toward the gate and the rest of the city. The man was almost a full block away, too far off to recognize, but he had roughly the right build. Chan found a place to sit that gave him a view of the street but made him hard to spot and did his best to stay perfectly still.

  Whoever he was, the man was clearly in no hurry. He strolled, hands in his pockets, admiring the houses he passed and gazing up sometimes at the pale cloud cover visible through the glass roof far above. He wore an old-fashioned sport coat and baggy trousers, and looked as if he belonged among the affluent citizens of Stratos.

  By the time he was half way up the block Chan
could make out a shock of blond hair, and his pulse started to increase. He told himself not to over-react. Plenty of people had blond hair, and for all he knew, Geoff was no longer one of them. The man might have dyed his hair, or acquired a wig, to put off all the hunters who were after him. This calm, relaxed figure taking in the afternoon air hardly looked like a fugitive.

  The man was almost to the park before Chan was certain it was Geoff. The con man's face was still indistinct, but his build, the way he moved, everything about him told Chan that he'd found his man. Chan leaned back, putting a tree branch between himself and the street, and asked himself what he should do.

  Geoff wasn't going home. That was the problem. He was leaving Stratos, and there was no telling when he would come back. Chan could try following him, but he might learn nothing at all.

  Well, he pretty much knew that Geoff lived at the back of the neighborhood, somewhere in the last two blocks. He was on the right side of the street, so he likely lived on the block to the right, or in the first house or two on the second block. That narrowed it down a lot. It was only fourteen houses. That would help, right?

  I should do nothing. I should bide my time, watch him go past, and report to Joss and Rhett. Then we'll figure out what to do next. He quickly had himself convinced that staying still was the thing to do, but he nevertheless found himself rising as Geoff passed the park.

  Chan's soft-soled shoes were silent on the cobbled street, and Geoff, safe in the bosom of a secure community, was not on his guard. Chan came trotting up behind him, and it was only at the last second that the con man started to turn his head. A nervous corner of Chan's mind had worried that it might not be Geoff after all, but a glimpse of the side of the man's face reassured him an instant before his elbow slammed into the back of Geoff's neck.

  The impact jolted Chan to his heels, and it sent Geoff pitching forward on his face. Chan pounced, grabbing the back of the sport coat with both hands, thinking to drag the man into the park. There was a low hedge that would provide a decent bit of cover.

  It was not so easy, however. Geoff put up a good fight, squirming and thrashing, until Chan seized him by the hair and hauled his head back, preparing to bash his forehead into the cobbles. A knee caught Chan across the back of the leg and he fell, and a moment later the two of them were rolling across the cobbles, grappling and punching.

  They came to rest with Chan on top, a forearm mashed against the side of Geoff's face. Geoff, his head pressed to the side, could only see Chan with one frantically rolling eye. He batted at Chan with one arm until Chan pinned the arm with his knee. Geoff's other arm was trapped underneath him. His heels drummed on the cobbles, but he couldn’t do much.

  "What are you doing?" His voice was slurred by the arm pressing against the side of his jaw. "What do you want?"

  "I want my suitcase back, you bastard."

  The eye stopped rolling and focused on Chan. "Oh," said Geoff. "It's you."

  "Yeah, that's right. It's me, and I want my iridium."

  Geoff managed to give the impression of shrugging despite being pinned to the ground. "I can't very well give it to you right now. It's not in my pocket, you know." He sounded aggrieved, as if Chan was being terribly unreasonable.

  Chan glanced around. The street was empty, but it couldn't last. With a sinking feeling he realized he had no idea what to do next.

  "Didn't really think this through, huh?"

  Chan leaned harder on Geoff's face. "How about if I just keep punching you until you think of something, smart guy?"

  "You're going to get arrested," Geoff told him.

  "Well, I'll tell the cops all about you."

  "Heh." It was impossible for Geoff to smile with Chan's arm mashing his face into the cobbles, but his voice said he was smirking. "I'm a resident, and you're a passing lunatic. Good luck with that."

  "Crap." He shifted around and used his free hand to grab Geoff by the hair. "Maybe I'll knock all your teeth out, and see if you have any expensive fillings."

  He was rewarded by a look of fear in Geoff's eye. Then the eye moved a bit to one side, the only warning Chan got before something slammed into his ribs. Strong hands closed on his upper arms, and he saw feet moving on either side of him. Someone was dragging him across the street. There were cobbles beneath him, then grass, then a glimpse of a hedge.

  Whoever had him, they were taking him behind the same hedge he'd wanted to use for questioning Geoff.

  His lungs weren't working too well, but he managed to gasp, "Look, I can explain. He—"

  That was as far as he got. He wasn't sure exactly what happened next. He only knew that it hurt, that the blows followed one after another, that each impact rocked him to the core of his being, the shock so complete that he was only distantly aware of the pain. He couldn't have said how many times they hit him.

  He didn't black out, not quite, but full consciousness didn't return until he started drowning in his own blood. He couldn't see. He coughed and struggled, unable to move his arms and legs. He was upside-down, his knees against his chest, unable to even turn his head. Blood filled his nostrils and spilled over his cheeks, pooling in the back of his throat, filling his mouth, coating his teeth.

  Kicking got him nowhere. He stretched out his hands, felt a cold smooth surface all around him, and pushed hard against it. By flailing his legs in time with the frantic shoves of his hands he managed to shift his body slightly to one side. It was enough that he was able to turn his head sideways. Blood poured out of his mouth and nose and made a sticky puddle beneath him, and he found that he could breathe.

  When the worst of the panic had subsided he tried to figure out where he was. It was completely dark, and he could smell rotten vegetables. For the scent to reach him through his wet and mangled nose it had to be very strong indeed.

  A faint vibration told him he was rolling over cobblestones. He was in one of the autonomous rolling garbage bins, he decided. It was a nice discreet way to move a body through Stratos, and he wished he'd thought of it before attacking Geoff.

  The container shook and swayed around him. He clung to a faint hope that he was going to be dumped on a trash heap, dirty and battered but safe. When the lid flipped open and light flooded in, though, he found himself peering past his own knees at one of the nastiest-looking men he'd ever seen.

  The man, hard-faced and ugly, sneered down at him, then grabbed the top of the container and twisted sideways. Chan's stomach lurched as the container toppled onto its side. Hard fingers closed over his ankle and dragged him out onto a cold tile floor.

  The light was bright but not overwhelming, so Chan deduced that he hadn't been in darkness for long. The blood still leaking from his nose supported that guess. He decided he was probably in Geoff's house, somewhere in Stratos. He was in some sort of utility room, with a sink along one wall and a drain set in the floor. It looked like a nice tidy place to commit a murder.

  A plastic tie snicked shut around Chan's ankles before he even saw it coming. The hard-faced man knelt on his bound legs while he tied Chan's wrists the same way. Chan, groggy and disoriented, didn't resist.

  The man stood.

  "Now, then." His accent wasn't Venusian. It was something twangy, something from Earth. "Who the hell are you?"

  Chan opened and closed his mouth, trying to figure out what to say, trying to goad his sluggish brain to work. The man booted him hard on the shin, and Chan gasped in pain.

  "None of that," the man said. "No clever stories. Just the truth. Straight up, or you'll regret it."

  "My name is Chan." There was no point in lying, he realized. Geoff knew everything anyway. "I have a ship. Had a ship. Geoff stole something from me."

  "Who the hell is Geoff?" The man's foot lifted from the floor, preparing another kick.

  "He's the guy I was fighting with when you attacked me. He told me his name was Geoff." There was a movement behind the man, and Chan babbled, "Him! That guy right there, behind you."

  The man gl
anced over his shoulder at Geoff, who stood in the doorway of the utility room looking distinctly uncomfortable. He had a black eye and an abrasion on one temple, but by the expression on his face it was the scene before him that bothered him most.

  "Oh, him," the man said. "Anyone else with you?"

  "No," Chan said automatically, despite the hopelessness of lying. "I came alone."

  "Really." The man stared down at Chan, looking thoughtful. Behind him, Geoff stood silent, and Chan willed him to keep his mouth shut. "Who else knows you're here?"

  "Well, I registered with the police. That's how I got into Stratos. They'll be looking for me by now."

  "Will they, now?" There was a skeptical smirk on the man's face, and Chan braced himself for another kick. Instead, the man drew back the long brown coat that he wore, and Chan saw a pistol in a holster on his hip. Chan's stomach went cold, but the man reached back, past the butt of the gun, and drew something from a little pocket on the side of his leg.

  Chan's relief evaporated when the man clicked open a little folding knife. He knelt. "We'll have the truth out of you soon enough," he said, then rested a knee on Chan's bound hands and leaned forward.

  "Now, hold on, Mar," Geoff said. "If you mark him up it'll just give him credibility if he goes to the police. Right now we can say he attacked me and we beat him up in self-defence. Once you cut him, though …"

  Mar looked over his shoulder. "There won't be no cops, you idiot," he said. "We're not letting this little bunny go." He turned his attention back to Chan and smiled, the coldest smile Chan had ever seen. "He's leaving here the same way he came in, in the garbage bin. Only he's going out in pieces."

  Mar's hand stretched out and the tip of the blade touched the skin below Chan's right eye. Chan twisted back until he couldn't twist any farther, and the knife followed him. He hissed as the blade pierced his skin. A drop of blood welled out, a crimson dome that looked enormous at such close range. Mar's smile broadened.